


Atonement

by whiskeyandlonging



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 13x22, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-10-07 15:49:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17368814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandlonging/pseuds/whiskeyandlonging
Summary: Coda to 13.22. Dean needs Jack to understand.





	Atonement

This was going to hurt like hell.

That didn’t stop Dean from tapping his knuckles softly on the door to the room that had become Jack’s. The kid hardly slept, but Sam had reminded Dean that privacy was a right, not a luxury (a childhood of shared motel rooms said otherwise), and so he’d been given his own room.

Dean ran a hand over his mouth while he leaned on the doorframe and waited (rather impatiently) for Jack to answer. Dean stood taller as the door opened slowly. Jack’s eyes, usually alight with curiosity, were dull and expressionless as he regarded Dean.

“Hey, listen, kid. We need to talk.” Jack said nothing, but stepped back to let Dean in. He shook his head. “Not here.”

“Why not?”

“Just follow me, okay?” Dean entreated wearily. Without another word, Jack closed his door quietly behind himself and followed Dean through the halls of the bunker.

Dean stopped outside the dungeon and slipped the old key into the lock. With a quick glance over each shoulder and a steadying inhale, he pushed the door open. Jack hesitated before slipping into the room with Dean close behind.

“What are we doing, Dean?” he asked with a childlike innocence when Dean brushed past. Dean didn’t answer, stomach caught in his throat, as he slid the secret doors open and gestured for Jack to follow him in.

Once the doors had been closed, Dean rolled up his sleeves and paced until he found himself next to the chair in the devil’s trap. He ran a hand over his weary face.

“You know, I’ve looked after my brother my entire life.” Dean swallowed, cleared the emotion from his throat. “Tried to keep him safe, protect him from everything I can but…” He looked down at his feet and shook his head, as if that would rid him of the pain his failure yesterday had caused. “I keep failing. I keep failing Sammy.”

A heavy silence hung between them, interrupted only by Dean’s occasional sniff as he struggled to compose himself. When he looked up to meet Jack’s quiet confusion, his eyes were brimming with tears.

“And that’s why…that’s why you need to know. Because if you don’t, then I’ve failed you, too. Failed Sammy _again_.” He bit out the last word, like it was painful to speak aloud.

“I don’t understand, Dean.” Jack cocked his head to the side.

“You need to see for yourself what Lucifer is capable of. The pain he causes.”

“How?”

Dean clenched and unclenched his hands as he avoided Jack’s gaze. “You’ll need to get in my mind. See my memories.”

Jack took a step back. “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“Jack. Please.” Dean would beg if necessary.

“But Dean, what if I hurt you? I can’t control my powers well and-”

“Dammit, Jack!” Dean bellowed as his hand slammed down on the wooden armchair. Jack started, scared by the sudden outburst. Dean took a deep breath and willed himself to calm. “I need you to do this. For Sam.”

Jack hesitated. When Dean’s desperate, exhausted gaze met his own, he gave a single nod. The tension eased from Dean’s shoulders as he sank down into the chair. He fastened one of the leather manacles around his wrist and pulled it tight.

“What’s that for?” Dean might have found the childlike curiosity endearing any other day.

“Restraints. To keep me still.”

“But why?”

“Because,” Dean bit out as he struggled to pull up the other restraint with one hand, “This is gonna hurt like a sonofabitch.”

“Dean-”

“I’ll be fine, kid.” It was a reassurance meant for Jack as much as himself. When Jack had finished fastening the leather, he stepped back and waited for instruction. “I don’t really know how this half-archangel mojo works but, uh…I’m going to focus on the memories I want you to see. You’ll have to find them.”

Jack said nothing as he stepped forward. Dean nodded and closed his eyes, focused on conjuring images he never wanted to remember. Sam, pale and shaky. Sam, eyes bloodshot with dark bags beneath. Sam, bandaged and bruised in white hospital garb that didn’t suit him at all. Sam, stained in shame and his own blood with the devil at his back.

Dean steeled himself as he felt the gentle pressure of Jack’s fingers on his temples.

He never screamed. This was the least he could do.


End file.
